Chapter Text
“You know I can't stay in here,” Sonar mumbled. He was wearing some of Lynn’s old clothes. He had a red flannel on with an old AC/DC shirt underneath, and a pair of grey pants with the knees worn out.
Connor nodded and sighed. He wasn't sure what to do. On one hand, he knew Sonar didn’t want to stay in his home forever, he wanted to be out in the wilderness. But Connor had seen scars under Sonar’s sleeves, far too many to be from himself. Burns, cuts, even a lash mark. He’d been too nervous to bring it up, and thought it looked like Sonar could fend for himself. “I can’t stop you if this is what you really want.”
Sonar nodded, “Yeah. But you guys can always come visit me.”
Lynn was nearby and leaning back on the dining room table, “At least you’ve got friends here.”
“Yeah,” Sonar said again with a small smile.
“Don’t forget what we taught you,” Henry said, “What’re you gonna do?”
“I’m gonna be respectful and professional!”
“And what’re you gonna say?”
“Conversational words and common contractions!”
Lynn then spoke up, eagerly asking, “And if he asks for a last name and address, what’re you gonna give Ford?”
“The last name Birchtree and your address!”
“Birchtree?” Henry asked, raising a brow, “That seems a little close to Pines, don’t you think?”
Sonar shrugged, “It was the last name of a human who died in the 60s, it’s no big deal. He was a figurehead for Bill’s old cult I think.”
“Neat,” Connor replied, “But I hope you know what you’re doing, Sonar. The woods aren’t a joke.”
“I do, I do, I’ll be fine,” Sonar replied, smiling quietly, “Thanks, guys.”
“You got this, Sonar!” Lynn shouted.
He did not, in fact, ‘got this’. Sonar was holding a little printed resume, which had a fake high school on it and the name of the local high school as and old and new place of education. It had his name, birthday (which was a fake date since he didn’t actually know, nor did he know the conversion for their different calendars), and a couple other tidbits of information he asked for.
It was around noon on a Monday (which was luckily Columbus day so it didn’t appear strange) as Sonar stood in front of the Mystery Shack, nervously taking a deep breath. It stood over him like the doors to a cathedral, where he’d need to confess his sins. He always thought this homecoming would be a glorious thing, and he’d be lying but he’d feel at home and at peace… So why did he feel so guilty?
Pulling open the door, Sonar was met with a round man in a suit with a few on top. This couldn’t be Stan or Ford, this looked nothing like the picture he had. He’d stolen it as a young boy from Bill’s manor, specifically from his personal bar where it had been used as a coaster. “Hey there, little dude!” he said, smiling brightly, “I’m Mr. Mystery, and the tour around the place starts in a couple minutes.” He had tan skin and brown hair, though it was a little hard to see under his fez.
A woman was behind the counter and had fluffy, light brown hair. She was curvy herself and in a simple Mystery Shack t-shirt and jeans. She had the kind of chubby face that made her look motherly. “And I’m Mrs. Mystery— well, I will be,” she chuckled, unable to help but glancing down at the engagement ring on her finger. She felt like a teenager in dumb love.
“Uhm… I’m actually looking for Dr. Pines? Dr. Stanford Pines?” Sonar mumbled quietly, holding his resume to his chest.
“Oh, you’re looking to be an assistant? Awesome, dude!” presumably Soos replied, “He’s downstairs in his lab, I’ll show you the way down.” He headed over to the vending machine, which very much confused Sonar, before tapping in a code and suddenly opening it. He headed over to the little intercom system Ford had installed, pressing the buzzer and calling, “Dr. Pines! You got an applicant!”
“Really?!” a low yet smooth voice replied with excitement, as the line went dark again and moments later the elevator before Sonar opened. Stepping out of the darkness with just as much wonder in his eyes as Sonar was the man himself. Stanford Pines. He had a cozy, red sweater on, his trench coat worn from burns, dirt, and spills. There was a minimally elegant pen in the chest pocket. His face was square and dusted with stubble, his eyes tired yet inquisitive. He had a rosy, large nose with larger and rosier ears. His eyes were behind thick glasses with black rims and golden accents, one lens sporting a small crack at the top. When Sonar registered anything but his father, he was hit with the sudden wave of old books, a smell he absolutely adored. Ford’s face turned from excited, to surprised, to a little disappointed, and finally deeply curious. “Hello, there,” he said, his brow gently furrowing in confusion, “Are you here for the assistant position?”
Sonar took a moment away from his staring and quiet excitement to nod. “I’m Sonar. U-Uh— Sonar Birchtree, sir,” he held out his hand eagerly, as Ford took it and gave him a light handshake. HE REALLY DOES HAVE SIX FINGERS, Sonar screamed internally, a goofy smile blooming on his face.
“And I am Stanford Pines, but I’m sure you already know that,” Ford replied with a smile, “Come on in.”
Sonar only got to see the first of three layers, where a small desk was waiting in the middle of the room. It was surrounded in bookcases and cabinets with countertops and tables. Each surface and case was covered in either books or paper, many rolled up and tied shut with twine, but others were large stacks of papers weighed down by a thick dictionary or other heavy reading. The entire room smelt like books, like a library hidden away for decades to ferment the soothing smell. Ford sat in a large wing-backed chair, with thick padding all covered in leather. His desk was a dark wood, expertly crafted to hide its seam lines and to give it a sophisticated look. Stanford sat across from Sonar, who got a very old but surprisingly quiet stool. His paper was on the desk in front of Ford, who held a fountain pen with precision. “So, this job is distinctly for adults, but you may be my only choice. There hasn’t been much luck with applications,” Sonar nodded along as Ford spoke, like he hadn’t conspired with a local to ruin Ford’s chances, “But part time help is better than no time help!” Sonar smiled and sheepishly laughed, nodding along. Ford paused for a moment, looking over Sonar’s resume again. The air was… much more awkward than before.
Ford didn’t know what to make of this boy. It was unnerving to see a boy who looked just like him. Same face shape, same rosacea, same nose. It was just odd that Sonar was so thin, and that his appearance was a little strange. It was uncanny. His eyes were a little too offset and light, his canines just a bit too sharp. But Ford was sure that he was just nervous about his new assistant.
“So,” he said, clearing his throat to focus on the interview, “How much knowledge do you have of a lab environment?”
“Uhm… Not much, but I’m very willing to learn.”
“I see, and how familiar are you with computer programs like excel, as well as formatting graphs and handling data?”
“I have a uhm… a bit of experience.”
“Advanced formulas?”
“I uhh…”
Ford went through half an hour of gentle questions Sonar couldn’t live up to. It was clear he wanted to be here, he offered to move to online school instead of public school to spend as much time in the lab as Ford. And despite Sonar not actually being in any school, one benefit of being Bill’s son was being a wonderful liar. But after not being able to answer most questions, Ford gave him a polite smile and said, “And where should I call if you’re selected for the job?”
Sonar knew there was no change he’d get the job, he’d known it since the beginning. The rejection hurt terribly, but it was nice Ford was giving him some kind of chance. “U-Uh…” he mumbled, unable to keep the slow disappointment washing over his expression, “I don’t have a phone but you could drop off a letter at uhh the address on my resume.”
“Well, you got three days until I cut off the selection process,” Stanford said with an awkward smile, “Don’t give up now, I’m sure your local science club will be excited to have you.”
“Uh… Well, thank you, for the opportunity,” Sonar replied quietly, having deflated in his chair from the disappointment. He stood, as Ford reached out to shake his hand again, which Sonar took. He held on just a moment longer, just a little too tight, before letting go after a firm shake. “I’ll head out.”
Ford watched as Sonar left his resume and sheepishly left, the elevator door shutting behind him. Ford’s polite smile soon faded and fell as he sighed heavily and put his head down, his arms crossed as he leaned on his desk. “My only applicant…” Ford mumbled, sighing slightly, “What am I gonna do now?”
He waited until Sonar was definitely out of the building to avoid an awkward run in, coming back out of his hobbit hole to get a cup of coffee. Stanley, who literally had nothing better to do than bother his twin, was sitting at the kitchen table when Stanford came in. “What’s with the face, Sixer?” he asked, biting a piece off of his sandwich.
“I had an applicant come in—”
“Congrats.”
“who is probably the most underqualified applicant to anything I’ve ever met.”
“Never mind,” Stan mumbled, fidgeting, “So what if your assistant is a little new at the game, you can train the guy and make him a sophisticated—”
“He’s 16.”
“Dammit…” Stan mumbled, his silver lining suddenly looking more like tin, “I mean, maybe this might be good, y’know?” You have been a bit bored around the house.”
“Pardon?”
“Ford,” he sighed, “You tried teaching Melody how to polish an old necklace with electrolysis.”
“And what’s so wrong with that? I-It’s a useful skill!”
“You treated her like Mabel and even called her that on two occasions,” Stan pointed out, crossing his arms, “You need something to nurture, it’s not a crazy idea for a guy your age.”
“Stanley, I am not p-pseudo adopting someone else’s kid!” Ford stammered, appalled by the idea.
“C’mon, he can be a little Dipper!”
“Stanley, that is crazy.”
“I did the same with Soos.”
“T-That’s different.”
“You need an assistant, Ford. It seems like the kid’s your only option,” Stan replied with a shrug, “It’s not like you’re plucking the kid from his house or the orphanage like some nerdier Batman. Besides, he’s probably going into biology anyway. Teenage internships happen all the time.”
Ford paused, setting a hand on his chin, “I uh… s-suppose you’re right. I’ve had the listing up in the most high traffic of places— community colleges, coffee shops, parks, hospitals— and I’ve only gotten one applicant. I fear there’s no more coming.”
“That’s the spirit!” Stan replied, patting his brother’s back.
“What if I really start trying to parent him?” Ford mumbled quietly, placing his hand on his chin in thought, “I mean… I feel like that would be crossing a professional boundary, and it would be difficult not to. He looks like my clone.”
“So what? You treated high school teachers like parents all the time when we were young.”
Ford blushed from embarrassment, not expecting to be so blatantly called out. “Again, that was a different story! Our parents weren’t exactly top notch.”
“And who’re you to say this kid’s parents are any different?”
“Stop making me feel morally obligated to be this kid’s father figure! W-Why won’t you just drop this?” Ford stammered, clearly flustered from the argument.
Stan shrugged, taking another bite of his sandwich and he spoke through a mouthful of food, “Cause there’s nothing better for me to do, and I wanna get back at you for this whole gap year thing.” After returning from their sea-voyage, which they’d been at for a year, Ford decided to take the next year off from sailing. He’d had the best time of his life with his brother, but he was worried about the financial strain it put on the Mystery Shack, whose business was partially funding their adventures. He also just wanted to take time and analyze their gathered data in an actual lab, which was more than a year’s worth.
Ford sighed and ran a hand down his face, “Alright, you win… I’ll consider it. I guess I owe you at least that.”
Rejection. Sonar had never felt it so hard before, not even when Bill would drunkenly scream insults and disownments to his face. Lynn was at Sonar’s grieving side in his cabin as he was cleaning out the place telekinetically. The fever had passed enough to where he could safely use some power, mostly to avoid the tetanus Lynn warned him about when she’d come unannounced and found him picking up rusted old appliances to toss outside. But injury or serious illnesses didn’t matter to Sonar right now. His face was painfully scrunched up with teary eyes as he tried to focus on cleaning and not how much he wanted his father. “I-It’s alright! I’m sure you can uh… y-you can get a job at the Mystery Shack and see him through that!” Lynn tried to console, “Or j-just not get a job at all! Maybe you could use your ship to lure him into investigating it and then happen to stumble upon it. And suddenly, he’s realizing how cool you are and taking you in!”
“Lynn, be serious!” Sonar half whined, tossing another pile of rotten junk outside an open window, pacing to get more and repeat the cycle as he spoke, “He’s not just gonna… s-see me walking around a sailboat and exclaim ‘Wow! Be my son!’ A-And where would I even get a ship?”
“No, like, your space ship.”
Sonar paused his panic-cleaning to turn to Lynn with the look of ‘are you serious?’ mixed with utter confusion. “My what?”
“What? You’re an alien, you must’ve gotten here with some kind of ship!” Lynn defended, crossing her arms and shrugging, “No need to look so offended!”
“Lynn, I got here through a portal,” he mumbled quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose as his arm rested on the other, “Ughh… i-it’s fine, I’ll see him around town. Besides, I knew this wasn’t going to amount to anything. I just wanted to check on him, and I-I’ll live a normal life without him.”
Lynn sighed, frowning as she came up to Sonar and held out her fist, “You still got us, right?”
“... I do but… what are you doing?” Sonar asked, his eyes slightly squinting as he tilted his head like a dog.
Lynn chuckled, “It’s a fist bump. You’re supposed to bump your fist against my fist.”
“Oh,” Sonar mumbled, putting up his fist and hitting Lynn’s rather forcefully, “Like that?”
Lynn cringed at the slight pain, nodding, “K-Kinda… You’ll get it eventually.” She rubbed her sore knuckles.
“Sorry.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow after school, okay?” she asked with a small smile, “I’ll take the whole day to think about what we can do, and then we’ll do it—” she grabbed the small bag she’d brought, a small cross body bag she’d covered in metal keychains and regular chains— “See ya, Sonar.”
Sonar nodded and waved, mumbling quietly, “Bye, Lynn…”
She trudged in defeat back home, the 10 minute walk feeling longer than ever, and then into her quaint home with her parents. Her mother and father, both simple people with simple pleasures, were out on their porch. The home was made out of wood with a decently sized yard, just like every other house beside it for rows and rows of streets. It was a calm blue with pink trimming and a grey roof. The yard was a perfected and well kept garden, with bushes of flowers framing the porch and an oak tree with a circle of stones around it fencing in mulch.
Lynn was 20 feet away from her yard and house when she saw Ford coming the same way, crossing the street next to her. “Dr. Pines? What’re you doing out here?” Lynn asked, her hand idly resting on her bag.
Ford paused, a little surprised he was called out by name, “I-I’m here delivering a letter… Have we met?”
She nodded, “Once— I was wandering around the shack for a birthday gift for my friend. You were upstairs getting coffee.”
“Oh, uh— Yes, you asked for a pinned moth,” Ford replied with a smile, “Glinda, wasn’t it?”
She nodded, “Yeah, but most people just call me Lynn. Anyway—”
“Yes! Why I’m here,” Stanford nodded, readjusting his glasses, “I was told that a boy just moved here, Sonar Birchtree. I have a letter for him and I believe this is his house.”
“Y-You have a letter for him?” Lynn asked, eagerly coming closer to say, “I-I’m actually going there now, I’ll take it to him.”
“Oh— I was hoping to—”
Lynn took the letter from Ford’s hand before he could stop her, “Kay, thanks, bye!”
Scurrying up the stairs as Ford shrugged and began to walk back home, Lynn’s parents finally noticed and greeted her. Her mother got up to coo and come over to her. “Glinda! There you are, we were just about to call you for dinner. Your father’s put on a roast, should be done any minute now.”
“Who was that down the road, Bug?” her father asked as he too stood up. He was a more sophisticated man, with a put together appearance with an argyle sweater vest, simple white button up underneath, and tucked in black tie with black slacks and black loafers.
“Oh, no one.”
“SONAR! SOOONAAAAR!” Lynn cried.
It was the next day and into the afternoon as Lynn came tearing through the woods straight from school, sprinting as fast as she could to get to him with the good news. She paused and cringed when she’d gotten close, noticing the skinned deer hide laying in the yard. “W-What the…?”
Sonar came running out of his cabin, his knife once more brandished as he yelled, “Lynn! Lynn?!” Sonar ran up to her, who was also running towards him with a paper in hand.
“Sonar! Look what I— Oh my God!” she exclaimed, “Dude, put down the knife.”
Sonar glanced from Lynn to the letter to her again, “Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“What’s with the deer skin in your yard?”
Sonar shrugged, “I hunted and skinned a deer for its meat. Duh. A-Anyway— what’s wrong?”
She slowly reached up to put the knife down for Sonar, pushing his hand back down to its side from its saber grip, “No, nothing’s wrong, but I have a letter you are going to want to read from your dad!”
Sonar curiously took the letter and paused, staring at the fancy cursive before him. “I uh… Is this how he writes?” Sonar asked nervously, “I-I can’t read this.”
“Here, let me,” Lynn interrupted, holding up the letter;
Dear Sonar,
I fear I was over hasty in my dismissal of you, and hope you would cordially accept my apology. Your available hours will be from 4:00 to 8:00 PM every weekday. Every weekend, your hours will be from 12:00 to 6:00 PM. I would hope you plan to come every day, but that is unrealistic for a teenager your age. I’m sure you have homework and a social life, so I only ask for three days out of every week and one day during the weekend. Your tasks will be simple in the beginning, but I will be there to help you every step of the way. Please send me some kind of message if you accept.
Your Mentor,
Dr. Stanford Pines
“Lynn!” Sonar screamed, excited beyond belief as he grabbed the letter and held it up, “Look at that! Oh my Cipher! I did it! I-I really did it!”
“Yeah!” Lynn giggled in response, eagerly jumping up and down as Sonar joined her, and the two shouted back and forth about their win.
“What time is it?!” Sonar shouted, grabbing Lynn by the shoulders in excitement.
“I-It’s nearly 4 o’clock, why?” Lynn replied, suddenly getting Sonar’s plan, “Oh! Yeah! Go! Go hang out with your dad!”
Sonar giggled and quickly looked around, grabbing the backpack he’d scrounged from a dumpster that morning, “Bye, Lynn! Wish me luck!” Sonar began to run out of the woods as Lynn waved behind him.
“Don’t be stupid!” she shouted, giggling eagerly as she huffed and sighed heavily. Lynn leaned on her knees to catch her breath, coughing slightly from the cold air as she slowly began to make her way out of the woods.
“Still no answer?” Stan asked, looking over some of the financial books for the month’s earnings, something Soos let him do to keep him busy. The checkbook was sitting on Stan’s lap as a notepad rested on the armrest of the armchair he was seated in.
Ford sighed, nodding, pacing the room idly as he always did. “I feel so awful for brushing him off like that, just like how those terrible mystery brothers from Jersey did to us. I hated those little brats…”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it, Six,” Stan mumbled, making sure everything was in order with his nearby calculator, more focused on that, “I’m sure he’s… more focused on uh… his friends or high school—”
“Dr. Pines!” Soos called, “You got a visitor, dude!”
Ford paused, glancing from the door to Stan, “You don’t think…”
“Go get your assistant.”
Stanford turned on his heel and walked to the door, standing in front of Sonar in the gift shop. Soos was busy upselling a family as Sonar sheepishly smiled, “T-Thank you so much, sir! For the uhm— opportunity.”
“Thank you for coming after my rude dismissal,” Ford said in return, gesturing to the vending machine, “Shall we?”
The lab was everything Sonar had ever dreamed. It was covered wall to wall in machinery. Samples filled a wall of cabinets as if an accent wall of wood paint. The floor was littered with papers covered in notes and schematics as Ford sheepishly took a seat at his desk, which was buried in a layer of research, “I do apologize for the mess… I uh, I didn’t expect the sudden appearance. But for now, I would just like to teach you data analysis and the tools you will be using to help me. A-And setting up my lab, that’s very important.”
Sonar nodded along as Ford explained how he wanted his graphs, how to fill out the spreadsheet template he made, and how to set up his lab. What the ladder meant was simply tidying up the space, turning on a few machines, and refilling Ford’s ink when needed. He was taken around Ford’s lab and introduced to the machinery around. Microscopes, bunsen burners, balances, a centrifuge, and about 20 others Sonar committed to memory. The ones that stuck in Sonar’s head, however, was Ford’s incubator and DNA analysis and sequencing machine. When presented with them, he curiously asked, “Could you make your own DNA to put into an egg and then incubate?”
Ford paused at the question, standing in front of the massive machine. It was almost as big as the TV screen it was hooked up to, and was a solid block of metal, CPUs, and wires. “I… suppose so,” he mumbled, shrugging, “Theoretically. Why do you ask?”
Sonar shrugged sheepishly, “Just curious.”
“Well, I hope you keep that same fire in you when we dive further into this work. Curiosity is your best tool,” Ford replied with a smile, nodding. He was rather uncertain how to handle a teenager, but maybe Stan’s advice would help out; he would just treat him like a little Dipper. First thing’s first, I need to organize some of the research I collected over the past year. I was at sea with my twin brother, Stanley, who I’m sure you know used to own this building.”
Sonar nodded along, asking with a kind of wonder in his steadfast gaze, “You went to sea? Where did you go?”
“We went all over, but we primarily stayed in Antarctica," Stanford replied, “It’s a fascinating region, which not many people get to go to. Our little boat needs a lot of upgrades if we ever plan to go back, however.” His smile was bright and eager to share details, but instead he cleared his throat and decided, “We should get to work, we’ll have plenty of time to chat later.”
Sonar nodded, directed towards a little computer in the corner. His desk was much like a cubical, as it was a small boxed off desk. The walls were covered in cork, perfect for thumbtacking on papers. While the presence of left behind thumbtacks weren’t strange, what was were the outlines of (presumably) by gone papers. Dust had collected practically everywhere else in the block. Sonar curiously stared at the computer, leaning forward and tapping the keyboard. “Wow,” he mumbled.
“I know you may not be familiar with such an old computer, but I’m sure you’ll—” Sonar interrupted his mentor by sneezing from all the dust, sending a cloud of it flying. Stanford chuckled, “I apologize for the dust, it completely slipped my mind to dust back here.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Sonar replied, sniffling.
Ford shook his head, “No, no, I apologize. I’ll have it cleaned up by tomorrow. Now, this is where you’ll be doing a majority of your work. Welcome to your desk.”
Sonar looked at the behemoth in front of him— a pale box with a curved screen, which was wider than Sonar himself. Underneath, the computer’s tower was already buzzing with life, its steady hum like a heartbeat. There were buttons, and lights, and doors Sonar had no idea about, but would soon find out. “I got by just fine on this old soul, and I’m sure you will too,” Stanford said confidently, setting down a pile of manilla folders, “In here are compilations of all my findings. Your job, for now, is to fill out a form of my design for each. Descriptions, names, family members. And then you can scan in the pages as further reference.”
“If you have all of your papers organized, why bother making a digital version?” Sonar asked, soon realizing it sounded rude as he stammered out, “N-Not to try and question you!”
Ford smiled with a soft chuckle. “There’s no need to be so worried,” he replied, leaning on Sonar’s chair, “My genetic analyzer doesn’t produce physical results we can write down, and, sadly, there’s no denying the digital age. This feels like an ample time to make the switch.”
Sonar nodded along, taking in a breath before curiously clicking the space bar. His nerves were running high, but he was quickly humbled when Stanford asked, “Do you know how to work a computer?” Sonar froze, his cheeks turning an embarrassed shade of red. “It’s okay if not.”
“I uh… don’t have one at home,” Sonar lied, fidgeting sheepishly.
“Then we’ll figure it out together,” Ford replied, adjusting his glasses, “I myself haven’t used this thing in… around 30 years now.” The time frame stung Sonar deeply— he knew far too well why that timeframe was— as he watched Ford’s hand reach for the power button.
“And here we go.”